


Whumptober 2018

by SadinaSaphrite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Brainwashing, Every Playable Character Gets a Chapter, Major Character Injury, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadinaSaphrite/pseuds/SadinaSaphrite
Summary: A series of 31 short drabble prompts for Whumptober. Angst and injury abound! There's a chapter for every Overwatch hero, plus some duplicates.





	1. Stabbed - Ana

This was why Ana was a sniper. Give her a rifle, a sniper nest, and a squadron to look over any day, but close combat was bullshit. Not that Ana was unskilled in hand-to-hand combat. She had yet to best super soldiers Jack and Gabriel, but she could throw Reinhardt across a room. Hell, she’d even torn out the aiming processors of a TI89 Missile Drone with her bare hands. But this?

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

They knew Talon was in the area. She’d been perched atop a building, monitoring the team’s flank when she saw it. Perched on another building, six hundred meters away and hanging off a windowsill was an armored soldier, wearing the black and red that Talon so proudly displayed with all the subtlety of a freight train.

“Hostile spotted at five o’clock high, ninth floor,” Ana reported into her communicator and lined the target up in her sights. Her finger curled around the rifle’s trigger when the figure disappeared. It didn’t drop or jump, it simply vanished from her scope. 

Ana’s head snapped up. A flash of red light to her left caught her attention. The figure was hanging off of another building, five hundred meters away. Another pulse of light brought the Talon soldier another hundred meters closer. Four hundred meters away. Three hundred. Two. One.

In less than three seconds, too fast for Ana to shoot, too fast for her to call for backup, the Talon soldier was on the roof with her. Ana swung her rifle around, but the soldier was impossibly fast. Scarlet blades of hard light burst into existence along the soldier’s forearms. The first blow from knocked the rifle from Ana’s hands. The second pierced her armor and sank into the flesh of her side.

Ana crumpled to the ground. The assassin stood over her, crimson blades gleaming, and finally made a fatal mistake: the soldier threw her head back and laughed.  
Ana snapped out her sidearm and put two bullets through the assassin’s head and another two through her chest. The assassin dropped like a stone.

“Captain Amari, we do not have visual on the target. Repeat, we do not have visual on the target.”

The ground team was still looking for the Talon assassin hanging from the windowsill. She’d been dropped in mere seconds.

“Hostile eliminated,” Ana croaked into her comm. “Talon has some kind of new tech. Again.”

She pressed a hand against her wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. She clenched her teeth and swallowed back a grunt of pain.

“Captain Amari, what’s your status?” Gerard’s voice was crisp and sharp on the comm, and his professionally clipped tone didn’t quite hide the note of fear in his voice.

“I’m down,” Ana said, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. Panicking sure as hell wasn’t going to help anyone. “Requesting immediate medical assistance at my ping.”

She fumbled at her belt for a nanite shot, but her fingers were slick with blood and felt think and clumsy. After a moment of struggling, she managed to get the nanite shot out of the belt pouch, but the syringe slipped from her fingers, rolling away on the concrete roof. Blast it all.

She felt dizzy, and the syringe seemed to move further and further away as she reached for it. Blood-smeared fingers trembled and stretched. If she could just get the injection, she might be able to stabilize herself long enough for backup to arrive. Reinhardt would never forgive her if she died alone on some forsaken rooftop. She reached. One finger brushed against clear plastic. Almost…just a little further. She had to get it. Jack and Gabriel would be useless without her. And Fareeha…she was only five. She couldn’t leave her little girl to grow up without her. 

Just a little further. Darkness closed in around the corners of her vision. Gerard was saying something in the mic, but she couldn’t make sense of the words.

A little more. For Fareeha.

Just a little…bit…

The darkness closed around her.


	2. Bloody Hands - Widowmaker

There was blood on her hands.

She could feel it, dry and flaky against her skin. She washed her hands. Scrubbed up to her elbows, but still the blood remained. She had to get it off. Had to get clean. It was sticky, clinging to her skin, crusted under her fingernails. She pumped another handful of soap from the dispenser and kept scrubbing. She picked at her fingernails, ran them under the water, but her hands stayed red, coated in blood. 

She turned the water up. She couldn’t tell if it was hot or cold. Or was that the blood? Pouring from the tap, over her hands, gushing like–

She’d slit his throat in his sleep. Make it permanent. No mistakes. Only way to be sure. Blood poured from his throat, running down the blade, down her hands. It pumped from him, his own traitorous heart pounding and drawing him closer and closer to death with each spurt of blood. Each breath whistled, escaping through the hole she’d cleanly slit through his trachea, gurgling around the blood filling his windpipe. He’d tried to talk.

“Am…Amé…lie…”

_Gerard._

Oh God. _Oh God._ She’d killed him. Her husband, the light of her life, her beloved Gerard. No! No, she didn’t mean it! She didn’t want this! They had forced her, had trapped her in that accursed room and told her horrible things and put lights in her eyes and wires in her brain and now he was dead, oh God, she’d killed him herself, Gerard, Gerard, how could she–

“Lacroix.”

Widowmaker snapped her head over her shoulder to find the source of the voice.

“Akande?”

“I have need of you in Marseille. Dress nice. Keep your rifle in its case, but hide some weapons on you.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

Akande left. Widowmaker looked down at the sink. Her hands were clean, her skin pale and blue. The water was neither hot nor cold. She wouldn’t have been able to tell even if it was. She turned the tap off and returned to her room.

She had a mission to complete.


	3. Insomnia - Winston

Mission reports were, quite possibly, the worst part of being the unofficial but sort of official Strike Commander, Winston thought, looking gloomily at the list of still unread reports on his tablet. Any agent who complained about writing mission reports clearly hadn’t been forced to read them. All of them. Different points of view on the same mission, in case someone had caught something another agent hadn’t.

“Winston.”

Still, it had to be done, and someone had to do it. As de facto leader of their quite illegal revived Overwatch, it fell on Winston to follow through with the mission reports and follow through with the aftermath.

“Winston.”

Still, it was a duty he took to with a diligence he showed in all his work. He settled back in his seat at the main terminal in the command center and continued through the reports. Instead of a traditional chair, his seat was fashioned from a tractor tire and a series of blankets. It may not have looked very professional, but it was far more practical than custom ordering an uncomfortable chair that would fit his unusual form.

“ _Winston._ ”

“Yes, Athena?” Winston asked, not looking up from the reports.

“Winston, may I remind you that the time is now 1:19 in the morning, and I must recommend that you put your current tasks on hold and get some sleep.”

“Thank you for the recommendation, Athena,” Winston got more comfortable in his seat and scrolled to the next report.

“Winston?”

“Just need to finish these reports. I’ll sleep after that.”

“The reports will still be there in the morning.”

“With even less time to get through them. I only have a few more left.” 

“If you insist, Winston.”

“I do, thank you. I’m almost done,” he said, reaching out with a foot to grab a jar of peanut butter off the desk.

It was another hour before he finished. He leaned back and stretched, tossing the tablet onto the desk.

“The time is now 2:34am. I recommend retreating to your quarters for some sleep,” Athena chimed over the speakers.

“Oh, I’m not tired,” Winston lied. “I think I’ll head to the lab and keep working on those armor upgrades Fareeha was asking about.”

“Winston…”

“It’ll only be a moment, Athena. Just want to get a little work done. No time for it during the day.”

Winston made his way to the lab and meticulously pulled out all the materials and blueprints he needed for the armor modifications, then got to work. As the minutes passed, his eyelids grew heavy and he began fighting back yawns and rubbing his face. 

He blinked slowly at the complex network of wires and computer circuits before him and rolled his soldering iron between his thick fingers. Wait…which row had he been working on? He squinted at the blueprints. Was that right? The network matched the diagram at first glance, but maybe he was reading them wrong, or else he’d just soldered the wrong spot. Blast. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to rewire the entire piece. He set the soldering iron back in its holder and picked up a probe, checking his work. 

No, it looked like he’d done it right. Why had it been wrong on the diagram? He looked back at the mess of electronics before him and tried to make sense of it.

Wires and circuits blurred together on the table, merging and twisting of their own accord. They slithered across the table, wires rearing up before they struck forward and sank into the flesh of his arms. Winston gasped and slapped at his arms, but more wires twisted into existence, crawling over his fingers, snaking over his form to attach to his spine, his skull, his chest, and everywhere in between. His skin crawled with the feeling of sharp wires and the hum of electricity, but the wires resisted his frantic attempts to remove them. Syringes shimmered into existence, sharp needles gleaming before lunging toward him.

_Just some more tests. Need to collect samples. More bloodwork. More injections._

The needles sank into him, piercing through skin and muscle to find the delicate fiber of his nerves. Pain shot through him, up his arms, down his spine, roaring in his skull. 

“ _Winston!_ ”

Winston jolted awake, sitting up sharply from where he’d fallen asleep on the workbench. His glasses hung crooked on his nose.

“Winston, are you alright?” Athena asked.

“I’m fine, Athena,” He sighed and pulled his glasses off, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Curses. Another nightmare. 

“I’ll be fine. I just need to get back to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you like this, hit me up at my [Writing Tumblr!](http://dabbledrabbleprose.tumblr.com)


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